


Red Peril Recovery

by AetherBunny



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Healing, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Team as Family, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherBunny/pseuds/AetherBunny
Summary: It's not easy adjusting to his new life. Even if his new life is much more positive than his old. But Illya tries, and his friends are there to help.You can read this as shippy or completely platonic, it's all up to you!
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	Red Peril Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting completed in a folder for like, years... so what better time to post it right?  
> I'll be finding and mass posting a lot of finished fics I just never did anything with for whatever reason.
> 
> There are teeny tiny references to the original show, so small you won't even notice if you've never seen it. So don't worry!

If you were to ask him outright he'd deny it, but Illya had grown very fond of his new partners. Officially Gabby was not _specifically his_ partner, but it was hard to find other agents who were willing to work with him. It was less of a Russian thing and more of a horrible violent temper thing. After he broke a few hands and cracked a few noses most of them stayed away. Newer agents Mark and April warmed up to him before the rumor mill circulated too far, and Marion one of the secretaries was never much for gossip. They'd chit chat to him, make minimal physical contact, and he'd let them.

At first he was angry, then upset, and that made him more angry. _Who were they to touch him? Did they think he cared about the weather and the traffic in the mornings? Why on earth was everybody so obsessed with baseball? Couldn't they just leave him alone like everybody else?_ In truth he really had never been treated so kindly in all his life and he wasn't sure how to handle it. Touch them back? Ask them questions about their lives? No, not yet, but slowly he learned to accept it from them. He would even nod or give an “mhm” after a while.

This thrilled his companions who had been trying to get him to socialize.

“Illya, Marion is sweet, why don't you take her to lunch?” Gabby prodded.

“Didn't see you out the other night Illya, I know Mark had invited you.” Napoleon clapped his shoulder.

Sometimes they felt a little smothering despite the care they showed for him. Thinking about it too much made him feel a little sick so he tried not to dwell on it. Even still he'd seek out Cowboy and Chop-Shop when he needed a little backup.

More than once an off hand comment by a coworker would set him dangerously on edge. The drumming would start the room would inexplicably shrink down, the temperature would rise and then a firm hand flat on his chest. Sometimes there was a familiar arm around his shoulder.

“Illya.”

Then instead of the room he could think about the weight of the touch. Sometimes Napoleon would talk him down. He could focus on his even tones until it would drown out the angry drumming.

“Hey now Peril, let's not damage any more company property okay?” He shot a glare to the offending agent. “If Waverly keeps taking out of your paycheck you're gonna be making negative. Who's gonna buy me lunch after I save their ass? C'mon now, he's not worth it. He's literally half the man you are.”

Napoleon didn't win any friends on that one, but that didn't matter. Once or twice Gabby has had to perform the same stunt. Her tactics were a little different. She'd take a restless hand and hold it, fold both of her tiny ones around one of his.

“Illya” she'd soothe, practice endearments in broken Russian, eventually coax him into a chair. She'd shoo out the other parties and he'd bury his head in the crook of her neck. She'd hum and card her fingers through his hair until he wasn't clutching her quite so tight.

They had a system, it worked well. Nobody got hurt, nothing got damaged and Gabby and Napoleon got their Russian all to themselves. There was one rare afternoon where neither of them were present and the temperature began to climb

It was easy for him to imagine Napoleon's voice he'd heard it often enough, it was harder to listen to it when he the one putting words to it.

“ _You shouldn't hit him. You know they'll send you back if you keep causing trouble...”_

It wasn't working so well, the drumming noise was getting louder. Gabby then, her perfume was unique and comforting, but you cannot hold a familiar smell. His head throbbing his body aimless he couldn't stop it. A lunch room table felt his wrath.

Later as he was decompressing in his shared office.

“Kuryakin, my office please.” Waverly had appeared in his doorway.

“Officially I have to reprimand you for damaging company property, and officially I have to tell you it's coming out of your paycheck. There is something about disciplinary action, but since I'm in charge I get to decide what that's going to be. Now unofficially I believe it should come out of someone else's pay this time. They should know better. And I am very grateful you didn't send that young man to medical. You exercised incredible control, and all on your own. I am very pleased you've come a long way. Your friends will be too. Now, they're set to return this evening and I'm sure they've missed you. Officially I think you should be suspended, for the rest of the day. You should go home, think about what you've done. Take a deep breath, drink some tea maybe. Take a nap. You're a very valuable agent Illya, and a good man. I have no desire to remove you from the organization. I think Solo would have my head, and Miss Teller much worse.”

He made his way back to his “conveniently located” apartment lightheaded with relief. He wouldn't have to leave, they weren't going to make him go. He propped himself up in bed and considered finding a few more furnishings. A bookshelf maybe, books of course, a reasonable armchair and if he were feeling frivolous- a radio. He didn't feel up to a television, not yet anyway. He got his fill at Gabby's. He must have dozed off then because he awoke to the sound of a key in his lock and pleasant chatter right behind it. Gabby, Napoleon and enough takeout to feed an army.

“My dearest.” Gabby was in the bed with him before he was fully awake. She tucked herself under his arm and rested her head on his chest. He could hear Napoleon fussing around his kitchen. Eventually he didn't find what he was looking for ( _muliple plates_ he assumed) and joined them. He propped himself up on Illya's other side and draped his arm around the other man.

“Waverly said you had a rough day?” He asked with gentle scratching to the back of his neck. Illya made a noncommittal noise but leaned into the scratching.

“Don't make him talk if he doesn't want to.” Gabby waved Napoleon off over Illya's chest.

“You're always coddling him, he's a grown man.”

“I'm a grown woman, I can coddle whom I please!” She could feel Illya chuckle.

“He broke a table! In half!” Napoleon reminded her.

“We just got back, can't we enjoy a nice reunion?” She’d have none of it.

“This is nice, not breaking anyone's bones is also nice. I just wanted to -”

“You're just jealous I don't indulge you as often!” Gabby cut him off.

“Perhaps!” Napoleon admitted.

“You got plenty of attention the last three weeks, now it's his turn!”

“Enough, enough!” Illya freed himself from Gabby's arms and brisquely climbed over Napoleon. They could hear him opening containers in the kitchen. “You brought me food, now let's eat it. Ah, Italian. You must have missed me.”

“More than I've missed anyone ever.” Gabby assured him, and Illya honest to goodness beamed at her.

“Three weeks-”

“Is the longest we've been separated since we met.” Gabby cut Napoleon off yet again.

“Is that so? Well then when you put it that way. I'm glad we all made it through.” Napoleon continued as he tried to slide the container of alfredo away from Illya. As proof of his fondness Illya let him, reaching instead for a slice of garlic bread. They munched in companionable silence Until Napoleon couldn't keep quiet any longer.

“Where does it all go Peril? You're absolutely bottomless and as svelte as ever.” He reached over and gripped Illya's side at his ribs for emphasis.

“Raised by wolves. Father gone, mother was...occupied, somebody had to care for me. I learned to eat when there is food, never know when you won't get it. But wolves made me strong, I can kill a deer with my teeth.” Illya delivered his not-quite-a-lie around bites of mastacholi with a completely straight face. A grin crept across Gabby's face sweetened by a dab of sauce at the corner of her mouth. Illya licked his thumb and reached across the short table to wipe it off. From there he brought his thumb back to his mouth. Another near kiss to add to their growing stash. Absorbed in one another they missed Napoleon's smile.

After dinner Gabby insisted they come to watch whatever was on TV at her place.

“Freshen up or whatever it is you boys do and come over. I'm not taking no.” She none too gently cupped Illya's chin to tip his face up to hers. He didn't mind. They've always been just a little rough with one another. He likes it that way. He wouldn't like it half as much if she were always gentle. He's still not too used to that.

Eventually they're on Gabby's couch. A tacky, overstuffed thing she insisted on despite Napoleon's protests.

“I want to have something silly. Something loud I never dreamt of owning _behind the wall_.” That got him every time.

“It's your eyesore.” The great Napoleon knew when he was defeated.

“Ehg.” he still teased her about it even as he got comfortable.

“Hush _Pollya_ or I'll tell Illya why you wear so much product in your hair.” She picked up the endearment from the Russian but the sneaky grin was all her own. Napoleon just sighed.

“What, there is an answer besides vanity. I need to know this.” Illya looked between his friends.

“Be good and maybe I will.” She fluffed a pillow to rest on Illya's thigh. The man did not realize how tense he still was until he was bracketed between his friends. If he leaned a little too close into Napoleon, the other man didn't say anything. In fact he threw his arm around him like he had done hours before. Gabby insisted she wasn't dozing even though she clearly was. Once in a while he'd stroke a hand through her hair or rub her back and she'd sigh. Eventually her breathing evened out and she was fully asleep.

“Gabby. Gabby?” Napoleon tested. No response. “About what she said. My hair. I don't want to give her the satisfaction of telling you.” Illya thought he looked a little sheepish, even in the dim light.

“Yes?” He didn't officially need info on the other man anymore, but it was nice to know things. “Go on.” he urged and tried to turn to face him a little better. Napoleon didn't get embarrassed often.

“Well, ever since I was very young, I've always had tremendously curly hair. It was hard for people to take me seriously until I started slicking it back.”

“I wanted to tell him!” Despite his best efforts Illya _had_ woken Gabby when he changed positions.

“It's my hair.”

“But I- “ Gabby began. Illya decided then to just to rest his head on the back of the couch and tune them out.

_It was nice to have them back._

**Author's Note:**

> I have the complete box set of the originals show and loved the movie. Pity it didn't seem to get enough attention for a sequel. I'd love to see more!
> 
> You can now visit me on a sideblog on tumblr as Aetherbunny of course. Feel free to say hello! or ask questions or perhaps buy me a kof fi if you know what I mean?


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